


Peace & Love

by lookingforatardis



Series: Charmie Ficmas 2018 [8]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, im sorry, please fic gods do not make this one come true please, set a littttttle in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-15 12:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/pseuds/lookingforatardis
Summary: THIS WAS BASED ON A PROMPT! I DID NOT COME UP WITH THIS! BLAME BELLA!!!Timmy's family is involved in a car accident just after the holidays that results in the deaths of both his parents and sister. This is set the following Christmas (which Timmy spends with Armie's family) with flashbacks to when Armie visited after it happened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [overflow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/overflow/gifts).



> THIS IS THE SADDEST THING I HAVE EVER WRITTEN AND WILL EVER WRITE! TIMMY IF YOU LURK PLEASE TURN BACK NOW! THIS IS FICTION!
> 
> Back many many months ago, Bella and I became friends. And then all our mutual friends were immediately horrified at the possibility of the two of us ever collaborating on anything. And guess what they were right to be worried because apparently when I allow Bella to give me prompts and then force her to talk through plot points with me this happens.

Armie drums his fingers against his bouncing legs, his lip caught between his teeth, eyes scanning the area. His chest is tight, stomach in knots; he hasn't eaten much in the past couple of days, has barely had enough water, enough sleep. Guilt seeps into his bones for not being able to take care of himself when he's not the one who should be distraught, which only drives his unsettled stomach more until he can't eat, can't sleep, can hardly function with the anxiety building.

It was never a question of who would pick Timmy up from the airport-- everyone assumed Armie would do it, would step up and be there for him. He didn't care who saw now, if something would be said. No one cared anymore, the only concern ever was for Timmy. He closes his eyes, fights the nausea he feels, checks the time. He hadn't seen him in person in months. Not since Saoirse had told him to leave, to stop pulling Timmy back into a state of depression.

He sees him walk through the terminal doors and stands, makes himself known as he calls out, " _Timmy."_

 

_"Timmy," Armie said when he walked through the door Giullian opened. Timmy was on his bed, staring at the wall opposite him. He turned slowly at the sound of Armie's voice and burst into tears, his legs trying to stand to go to him as Armie met him halfway, arms wrapping tightly around his body to hold him up. "I know, I'm here, I'm here," he mumbled, his face pressed against Timmy's hair, fighting tears. He let him sob until he couldn't stand, then carried him to the bed and held him close while he broke down in his arms. Giullian came in after an hour and asked if they needed anything, brought some water. His eyes were rimmed red, cheeks damp, lip trembling. Armie couldn't handle it, could barely handle Timmy. He shook his head and turned his attention back to Timmy who was hiccupping through his sobs as they evened out. Armie pressed his hair back and leaned his forehead against Timmy's temple as he tried to breathe. "They're gone," he whispered, hand clasping Armie's shirt as a new wave of sobs broke through his body._

 

His eyes meet Armie's in the crowded baggage claim area, a small smile forming on his lips as he walked over. "Hey," he greets, and Armie isn't sure how to react to the lightness of his voice, opting to lean in for a hug, second guessing how long he should hold on, how long would be too long, how long would be very obviously _a I'm sorry you don’t have any family and have to spend Christmas with me_ hug. Timmy pulls back first and adjusts his backpack on his shoulders with a smile. "Good to see you," he says.

"It's good to see you, too. I missed you, we all did. The kids wanted to come pick you up, too," Armie says, nodding his head towards the exit. "Wait, do you have any bags?"

"Just the carry on," Timmy says, and Armie looks down to see him gripping the handle of a bag. He takes it and smiles at Timmy as they start walking, silence covering them. Armie tries to convince himself it's normal silence, but every silence feels loaded now.

On the drive back to Armie's house, Timmy props his feet on the dash and fiddles with the bluetooth until his phone plays music through the speakers. "God, I missed this. It's so warm here," he muses, looking out the window. "The city is covered in snow." Armie has to take a deep breath to calm himself down at the mention of snow. Of the implication of ice. Of danger.

"We should go to the beach. Not to swim of course but…"

"I'd like that," Timmy nods, glancing at Armie with a small smile. The drive is mostly silent.

They arrive at Armie's house and Timmy is immediately enveloped in arms, first Elizabeth's, then the kids who promptly latched themselves onto Timmy and begged him to play games. His smile is wider, more genuine, his laughter like from another life when he leans down to let Ford hop on his back and nods to Harper to lead the way. Elizabeth laughs and ruffles his hair as they walk past, Harper singing _Jingle Bells_ absentmindedly as she takes him to their playroom.

“How is he?” Elizabeth asks once he’s out of earshot. Armie stares at the hallway he disappeared down and shrugs.

“I don’t know. Better, I guess. I don’t know.”

“He looks healthy,” she notes, moving to the kitchen. “That’s a good sign. Last time you said he looked sick.”

“Yeah,” Armie runs a hand through his hair. “Definitely better than last time.”

“You’re going to be supportive, right?” Armie stares at her as she chops some veggies for dinner. She glances up and sighs when she sees him frozen. “You’re not going to make it worse?”

“Why would I make it worse?”

“Armie,” Elizabeth huffs, shaking her head. “You’re going to be supportive and you’re not going to make him regret coming. Understood?” Armie watches her for awhile before hearing the kids shouting from the other room, Harper running through the halls laughing wildly, Timmy chasing her, Ford trailing behind. When he catches up, he grabs her and spins her around. Armie watches with a smile, turning to glance at Elizabeth when she laughs.

_"He hasn't been eating," Giullian said, arms crossed. "I got him to eat soup yesterday, but he doesn't want to do anything." Armie looks at him from across the room and feels nauseous. Giullian speaks again, his voice shaking. "Look man, I'm trying here. But they were like a second family to me and I…"_

_"I know," Armie interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know."_

_"I just can't, you know, I can't be there for him right now like this, I need to, I have to deal with it, too."_

_"It's okay," Armie nodded, understanding the moment he got the call that his role would be to hold things together while others mourned the loss of Timmy's family. Giullian walked away and sat down on the couch, his hands covering his knees. Armie watched him for a moment before hearing Timmy down the hall; he went to him and cradled Timmy’s head between his hands when he gravitated towards him. Timmy connected with Armie's chest, his arms tight around his own frame as Armie had to adjust to keep him steady._

_"Head hurts," Timmy mumbled, his voice shallow and tired._

_"I can get you some aspirin?" Armie suggested, rubbing his back, eyes closed. Timmy didn't respond, simply stood there, body somewhat limp and drained. "Tim?" A shudder moved through Timmy and into Armie's embrace, Timmy's face rubbing against Armie's t-shirt gently. "I can't help you if you don't talk," Armie whispered, pulling him closer, fighting the need to cry. His father hadn't taught him much, but how to be strong in the face of hardship was one lesson he was grateful for now._

_Timmy shook suddenly, and Armie realized he was still crying, hiding his face to stop Armie from seeing. "I'm going to get you some water, okay?" Armie chokes out, fingers in Timmy's hair. "Maybe tea?" This makes Timmy worse, his fingers unwrapping themselves from his torso and instead gripping Armie's. "Just water, okay. Want to sit back down on the bed?" Timmy nodded and pressed his forehead against Armie's chest momentarily before stepping back, wiping his eyes, and wandering to his room. Armie watches him collapse against the bed before turning away towards the kitchen, his steps quick, hands shaking. When he returns, Timmy is asleep, hand tucked under his cheek._

 

"Dad, I'm glad Timmy is back," Harper says, legs swinging as she sits on a stool at the breakfast bar, Armie leaning down on his elbows to meet her at eye level. He glances towards Timmy in the living room on the couch playing a video game with Ford.

"Me too, kiddo."

"Is he still sad?" she whispers, leaning in. He looks back at her and smiles sadly.

"I don’t know, Hops. I think he's happy to be here with us."

"He looks happy," she nods, looking back. "Maybe he missed us."

"I'm sure he missed you."

"And you," she adds, glancing back with a sly smile Elizabeth always said was all him.

"Maybe," he says, straightening his back. Timmy looks over and smiles softly when he sees them staring. He nods once in the direction of the couch and Armie goes to him, the feeling of anxiety that's settled in his stomach as of late easing only marginally to see him appear carefree. Even if it's temporary.

He sits next to him and fights the urge to hold him, knowing if Timmy wanted him to, he’d ask, or at least lean against him.  A part of him still sees Timmy a year ago, his eyes distant, body cold, heart shattered. He knows the wounds from that night won't heal, only scab, those he lost gone for good. It's a hard pill to swallow.

Timmy looks at him when the race on the screen ends, his eyes searching. "I'm okay," he whispers, nodding. Armie swallows and tries to smile, but feels as though it's a lost cause. "Later," Timmy adds, glancing around the room. "I don't want to talk now."

"Okay," Armie nods, granting him this. He takes a deep breath and puts up a façade to mask how worried he still is, and looks around Timmy to see Ford. "Teaching Timmy how to play?" he asks.

"He beat me," Ford states, arm extended towards the screen. "Ridiculous." It makes Armie laugh, the sound light and hesitant as he meets Timmy's eyes to find him smiling. It doesn't seem right that he'd smile after everything, but the sight of it alone is enough to warm Armie, to give him hope.

"He's had more practice," Armie says with a smile, remembering the time Timmy showed him his old youtube videos of controllers. Armie had been beaten too many times to count, too.

"Rematch," Ford says, cracking his knuckles. Timmy laughs and nods, picks the controller up, sways towards Armie to bump their shoulders. Presses play.

Armie sits with them until they grow tired of the game, Ford’s overactive imagination running wild with someone new to entertain him. He gets Timmy to agree to play board games with them, and Harper joins in with a smile at Armie. He tried telling her beforehand not to make Timmy feel uncomfortable; she’d developed a pattern of asking about him often, always wondering if he felt okay yet, and having her ask Timmy constantly was the last thing Armie wanted. She follows Ford’s lead, and Armie hopes she lays off her well-meaning effort to evaluate his state of mind.

She'd been just old enough to understand what happened. Before getting on a plane, she'd stopped him and asked him where he was going. She was confused. Elizabeth was with Ford, trying to help him get ready for bed. Armie told her there was an accident, Timmy needed him. Misunderstanding, she began crying, grabbed Armie's hand, asked if Timmy was alright. He told her what happened, that he was fine, he wasn't in the car, but his family was. He held her while she cried, old enough to understand, too young to process quickly.

Now, Armie watches her lean against Timmy's side as they play, her smile wide and jokes flying. He isn't sure how she knew to do this, but he's grateful she seems to instinctively understand something he can't put into words, isn't even sure he's able to do himself. To separate the pain from the present, he supposes. To move on and help _him_ move on.

Armie wanders to the kitchen to help finish dinner, and Elizabeth asks how they're doing. "Fine," he says, shaking his head. "He really seems okay. I don't think he wants us to tiptoe. I'll talk to him about it when he's ready."

"I just don't want it to end up like last time," she mutters, looking down with an expression that turns his stomach. "We all know that you made it worse when you freaked out--"

"I didn't freak out, Jesus Christ," he snaps, rolling his eyes. "You don't even know what you're talking about. You weren't fucking there," he adds, turning to leave. He wanders outside, pulls a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, and lights up.

 

 _Armie carefully moved Timmy's arm from his chest and slipped out of bed, moved a pillow back under Timmy's head where his shoulder had been so he doesn't wake. He glanced at the time on his way out, his breathing labored, chest aching. Giullian had gone home hours ago, sometime around midnight, so the apartment was empty, cold. He closed the bathroom door quietly and sank to the floor, his back resting against the wall as his eyes slipped shut, exhaust overtaking him. It was just past four. His body had been waking him up in the middle of the night like clockwork, an anxiety attack he couldn't stave off any longer coming for him in the middle of the night. He kept his breathing as even as he could for as long as possible before it took over, his chest tight as he allowed the weight of what had happened collapse his lungs. He remembered the first time he met Timmy's family, how they'd allowed him into their arms and trust. Armie knew he had no right to mourn when his pain was miniscule compared to Timmy's, his devastation nothing in comparison. Timmy had no one, something Armie hadn't been able to forget from the moment he'd heard over the phone, the young nurse's voice clear, "I don't think he's ready to talk. He asked me to make a few calls. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you." He knew immediately the state Timmy would be in, so far from what it would be had their roles been reversed, had it been Armie's entire family that had passed in a deadly car accident. He understood the nurse was playing a role he'd take on: the one to take care of things, to make calls, to be_ strong _. Anxiety was not strong. Anxiety and pain was for the middle of the night when Timmy was resting._

_When his breathing returned to normal, he went back to bed and slipping back under the covers, tried not to remember the first time he'd done so, the look of excitement on Timmy's face when he'd finally worn Armie down enough to stay the night, their bodies facing each other while they talked half the night away. The night Armie started falling in love, stopped lying to himself about his feelings for Timmy. What he'd give to go back to that moment and cherish it a little longer before it ended, before he'd lose his chance, before lying next to Timmy was something of comfort and necessity, some form of love and innocent intimacy he couldn't get from anyone else._

_Later, Armie might joke about his body having a_ Timmy _setting, waking him up moments before him each morning, but in the moment, it’s his final chance to collect himself to be whatever Timmy needs that day. Timmy’s eyes opened and gazed up at him as he pushed the hair off his forehead with a small smile. “Hey,” he said. “Good morning.” Timmy tried to smile back before curling closer to Armie’s side._

 

They eat together at the table, Elizabeth running a hand over Timmy’s hair when she passes him. Armie watches him during the interaction, wishing he could tell Elizabeth to lay off the mothering without causing a scene. The kids carry conversation for awhile, too many questions for Timmy and the city to hold back for any longer. Armie hadn’t taken them back in quite some time, but every time Timmy sent a picture, Armie showed it to them. There had been a while where the kids went with Armie frequently when he had trips to the city; they enjoyed it, missed it even.

After dinner, Timmy excused himself to go to the guest room. Armie fought the memories of watching him walk down his hallway in New York, first the image of him fighting exhaust, limbs too weak, emotion drained; his mind replaces the Timmy of January of this year with Timmy from the summer of last, wearing his shirt, laughing, calling his name to follow. Timmy re-emerges from the guest room, breaking Armie from his reverie, a small box in his hand and a tentative smile on his lips, growing with each step with Harper walks over to stand with Armie and sees, gasps, asks if it's a present.

He shrugs dramatically and winks at Armie before patting her head and walking over to the couch where Ford is perched. “You have to open it with your brother,” Timmy says, passing it to Ford with a look at Harper. Armie wanders closer and leans against a wall, his heart aching at the sight. Timmy glances over and holds eye contact until the sound of wrapping paper ripping breaks the trance, both blinking and focusing back the kids.

“Woah,” Harper says, eyes bright. “Don’t break it!” she tells Ford when he lunges for the glass ornament. Timmy glances back at Armie for a moment, Harper pulling him back in with a question, “Can we hang it on the tree?”

“Show your dad first,” Timmy says. Armie steps closer as Harper approaches, her hands cradling the ornament.  

He takes it from her, his lips curling up at the edges when he sees the detailing. It's a cityscape inside the delicate snow globe ornament, New York's skyline covered in a thin layer of snow, more when the ornament shakes. Armie touches the space over the Chrysler building, the Empire State Building, Christmas tree at Rockefeller, the tiny details drawn or painted in. It's beautiful, reminding Armie of how stunning the city is, how much he missed it. He looks up to see Timmy staring, his lip caught between his teeth. "Thank you," Armie says, his voice caught up in his throat suddenly. He coughs to clear it and looks back at Harper. "Please be careful," he tells her, nodding to the tree so she knows she can find a spot for it.

“I know how much you miss it,” Timmy says, eyes still on him with a shrug. “Saoirse knows an artist who does them.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Armie nod, looking back at the tree to watch Ford and Harper place it. “A piece of the city for when we can’t be there,” he adds quietly, eyes dropping. He refrains from thinking about the city covered in snow, how it was always Timmy’s favorite, how it was bitter sweet now.

“Dessert?” Armie hears, turns to see Elizabeth with a plate of cookies. “Timmy, want one? It’s a new recipe,” she says. The kids run over and grab some, Timmy follows and thanks her, smirking at Armie as he turns back. A new recipe, she always said that; Timmy found it amusing the first couple of times she did, thought it was some sort of joke. _“Certainly she’s not always making new ones, right? What’s wrong with the old ones?”_ Armie never had an answer for him. Something about Timmy playing at an old joke of theirs sends Armie spinning, puts him back in the past, back when they were happy, when their biggest concern was when they’d see each other next.

They put on _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ and sit together, the five of them, on the couch and chairs. Armie is on one end of the couch, Elizabeth next to him, Harper next to her, Timmy crammed in last. Ford lays on the floor, legs up, chin on his hands as he watches the movie, turning over his shoulder to make comments. Armie stares at his hands, counts seconds, tries to focus on the movie, not the space between him and Timmy. Space he hadn’t wanted, but Timmy put there, his decision a year and a half ago, his words that separated them.

He excuses himself halfway through, catches his breath in the bathroom, and splashes some water on his face. When he looks in the mirror, he barely recognizes himself.

 

_Armie ran his fingers up and down Timmy's arm, his eyes threatened to slip shut. Timmy's head rested against his shoulder, one leg draped over Armie's, breathing shallow. They were sitting on the floor, their backs against the bed; Armie had found him with his legs tucked up to his chest, a card in front of him, his face expressionless. He crouched down, held the card, then Timmy upon seeing Pauline's handwriting. Nearly an hour passed in silence, Timmy holding it in his hands as he leaned against Armie. "She always thought you and I were going to end up together," he whispered. "Said we'd figure it out eventually. Now…" He took a deep breath and shook his head. Armie pressed his lips against Timmy's hair, his eyes watering. They sat in silence, but Armie knew what it meant. That it took her dying for Armie to come back, for him to feel allowed to hold Timmy again. It had been five months since they'd ended the affair, and the first time they'd seen each other since Timmy had told Armie he couldn't do it anymore. Armie skimmed his fingers over Timmy's skin until he calmed down again, Armie's cheek rested on the top of his head._

_Armie knew nothing he could say would have any impact on Timmy in the moment, so instead of talking, he hummed, allowed Timmy to pull himself closer, to place her card beside him so he could loop his arms around Armie's neck, his head resting against his own bicep so his nose brushed against Armie's jaw when he breathed deeply. Armie shifted to hold him closer, a hand lifting to wipe at the tears falling from Timmy's cheeks periodically until Timmy told him to stop. His head fell back against the bed so he could breathe, his hand in a fist at his side to stop from touching him._

 

Armie nearly walks into Timmy when he opens the bathroom door to return to the movie, Timmy’s _sorry_ mumbled under his breath out of habit as he looks up at Armie. “It’s okay,” Armie says, leaning against the hallway wall opposite to Timmy.

“You were just gone for a while, you looked sick,” Timmy says quietly. “Um…” Armie takes a deep breath as Timmy looks back down the hall towards the living room. “I guess you’re fine, though.”

“Tim, wait,” Armie says as Timmy turns to walk away.

“The movie’s almost over,” Timmy says, looking back. “I know, okay,” he sighs suddenly. “I know we have to talk. But I don’t want the kids to hear, can we wait until they’re in bed?” Armie nods, incapable of denying him anything even now.

The two return to the living room and finish the movie with the others. Armie puts the kids to bed to distract himself from the conversation he knows is coming, tries not to wonder what Timmy will reveal, if he’ll be upset for how Armie left things the last time he visited, if he’s still angry about the funeral, if he was really doing better or just putting on a show. It had been almost a year to the date, Armie knew it had to be rough.

He’s lost in thought when he walks back downstairs and overhears Elizabeth and Timmy talking. "I appreciate you inviting me this year." Armie stalls in the hall, Timmy's voice small.

"Of course, Timmy. I wasn't sure Armie would but then again he hasn't really dealt with all of this well, I think he's tried to hide it from you."

"I know." Armie swallows hard upon hearing Timmy admit to knowing he struggled. He doesn't want to know what else he might say to Elizabeth, so he steps in, smiles awkwardly at the two of them.

"If you need anything just let me know, sweetie," Elizabeth says, turning her attention back to Timmy with a hand on his shoulder. She gives Armie a look when she turns to leave and he tries not to let it get to him.

"I'll be in bed," she calls over her shoulder. "Take your time."

Armie stares at the floor, his mind racing. "Can I ask you something?" Timmy asks quietly, drawing Armie's eyes up to meet his. "She knows, doesn't she?"

"Yes," Armie nods slowly. Timmy takes a deep breath and looks away, towards the tree.

"Then why am I here? Why would she invite me?"

"She feels bad and she knows it ended," Armie says softly.

"She doesn't think me being in a vulnerable position is a risk for it to happen again?" Armie sees his lip quiver, hears the bitterness in his voice. "That's what she said in Crema, right? Told you to be careful not to take advantage of a vulnerable situation?"

"Timmy," Armie sighs, unsure of how to proceed.

"I guess it doesn't really matter anyway," Timmy says, turning back to him. "Does she know I came onto you? That it was far from you taking advantage?"

"Is this really what we're going to talk about?" Armie asks after a moment.

"I'm just curious," Timmy shrugs, looking away. "Curious how you told your wife you were having an affair and somehow she's still with you."

"The kids," Armie says quietly.

"Right, don't fuck up the kids. It's a shit show if a kid doesn’t have a parent around," he answers quickly, eyes still stuck on the tree. Armie's heart drops, all feeling of his limbs seizing. “What?” Timmy glances at him after a moment of silence. “That’s what you want to talk about, right?”

“Tim,” Armie mumbles, his voice shaking, eyes watering at the sight in front of him. Timmy sounds bitter, but he looks as though he’s dropped a mask, his features softened, open.

“I’m doing better,” Timmy nods, swallowing hard. “I promise."

"I know," Armie nods. "I can tell. I'm glad."

"You're not," Timmy says, breathing deep. "Better, I mean."

"Don't worry about me," Armie smiles as he looks down. "I'm doing fine."

"I missed you," Timmy whispers, Armie's eyes darting up at the confession.

"I missed you, too," he says back, his body aching.

"Can we…" Timmy takes a deep breath. "I just really missed you and I'm exhausted and I know you want to talk and I should probably apologize for the funeral but I really just want to lay down so, can we, will you--"

"Yeah, of course," Armie nods, biting his lip, understanding immediately. "Yeah, let's go." He moves to walk towards Timmy, wrapping him up in a hug first, his eyes closing tightly when the tension leaves Timmy's body. They walk down the hall to the guest room and Armie shuts the door and locks it before turning back to see Timmy pulling one of Armie's old hoodies out of a suitcase and pulling it over his head. He strips his jeans off and crawls into bed, Armie watching a bit disarmed, memories flooding him.

"If you changed your mind about sleeping here…" Timmy mumbles, staring at his hands on the bed. "It's okay, you know. I get it."

"Stop," Armie says quietly, taking his own layers off and flicking the light before slipping into the bed. Timmy turned a lamp on and it casts a soft glow over them as they face one another. "I'm glad you're doing better," Armie whispers. "I missed seeing you smile."

"It's still hard," Timmy whispers back, his eyes filling with the words. Armie reaches out to brush the tears as the spill over, and Timmy caves, pulls himself closer to Armie until they're intertwined, Timmy's head on Armie's chest, their arms and legs tangled together. "I missed you so much," Timmy mumbles. "I love you," he says softly, his body shaking with a sudden and singular cry.

"I love you, too," Armie's voice breaks as he stares at the ceiling, knowing the words mean more than the each let on.

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay i know it’s a day late but i did not anticipate having so much work to do yesterday. enjoy! let this soothe your minds: this will not be the final part of this fic! It was originally supposed to be two parts, but I am nowhere near finished (oops) and anyway I didn’t have the time to even attempt finishing it. SO look for another update to P&L during ficmas, probably after this week ends. ily guys

_"Please, you have to be here," Armie's voice broke halfway through the sentence, his face in his hands, back pressed against the bathroom door with his knees bunched up near his chest. "It'll mean so much, please."_

_"I told you, I'll be there," Luca's voice echoed in his ears. "We've talked about this, Armie. I will not be able to come until the funeral. But I will be there for him."_

_"He's so bad, Luca. You’ve never seen this, he doesn't talk. I have to force him to eat and drink water, he's scaring the shit out of me."_

_"He's lost." Armie stared at the shower, eyes drifting in and out of focus. "It's only been a few days, give him some time."_

_"He took his Dad's watch out yesterday and put it on and just sobbed for like three hours, Luca. His friends can't handle it, they're all stopping by to bring flowers or some shit and then leave, they just leave him here with me," Armie muttered, his body shaking._

_"They were all close, you know that. They're each mourning."_

_"And I'm not?!" Armie pressed his fist to his temple._

_"Not in the same way, no."_

_"So just because I didn't grow up with them, right? I don't get to be upset because they only acted like parents to me for a few years, not decades, right?"_

_"That's not what I mean, Armie," Luca said, voice patient. "I know what that family meant to you," he continued. "It meant something different to each of them, too. Right now, Timmy has chosen you to be by his side, and that makes it different."_

_"I can't do this, Luca. I can't watch him fall apart like this."_

_"Yes, you can." Armie pressed his hand against his eyes and allowed his emotion to overtake him. "You can because he needs you, and you love him too much to stay away."_

 

"We went to Chambon for Dad's birthday," Timmy whispers, fingers splaying over Armie's chest. "I wish you could have come."

"I wanted to," Armie says softly. "I didn't think I would be welcome."

"Saoirse wouldn't have stopped you."

"I'm not so sure…" Armie thinks back to every interaction he'd had with her over the past year, to the last words she spoke to him. "She doesn't think I'm good for you."

"She was just worried," Timmy sighs, hooking his ankle around Armie's.

"Did you see his family?" Armie asks, changing the subject. Timmy nods against his chest. "How was that?"

"As good as it could be," Timmy mumbles. "It was kind of nice, being back. It had been a few years." Silence settles over them while Armie traces up and down Timmy's spine, his body remembering Timmy's, muscle memory taking over as it often did when they were together. "He felt more alive there, you know? Like I could still see him somewhere, I don't know."

"I'll go with you next time," Armie whispers, his voice tight. The image of Timmy walking the streets his father grew up on was overwhelming.

"I was thinking of going to Paris for New Year's," Timmy mentions, shifting. Armie hears it in the silence, the _for Pauline's birthday_ he assumes Timmy can't bring himself to say. "I know it's short notice--"

"I'll go," Armie says, eyes filling at the thought of Timmy walking through her city alone, going to see her old friends, to her theatre. "Let me know the day, I'll book a flight."

"You don't have to," Timmy tells him.

"I'm going," Armie nods. "If you want me there, I'll be there."

"You don't have to do that," Timmy whispers, moving so more of his body covers Armie's. "I don't need you to babysit me."

"I didn't think I was," Armie says, thinking back to when it first happened, Elizabeth asking if he needed to be supervised or put on suicide watch, if Armie was qualified to do that considering he wasn't the most mentally stable. He bites back the memory.

"You sure you're not just saying yes because you feel bad?" Armie's bones ache with the tremor in Timmy's speech.

"I do feel bad, Timmy. But I'm not saying yes because I feel bad. I'm saying yes because I want to be there for you."

"Because you love me," Timmy says quietly.

"Yes."

 

_"Hey, breathe, it's alright, come on look at me, breathe," Armie said, his body still waking up as he held Timmy in his arms, his hands shaking as Timmy struggled to get air into his lungs. "I've got you, breathe." He rubbed circles on his back and glanced at the clock nearing 6am, Timmy's body shaking violently with a nightmare. It happened the first night, too._

_"Everyone's gone, they're gone," Timmy cried._

_"I know, baby. I'm so sorry," Armie said, pressing his lips to Timmy's hair a few times as he clutched at Armie's back._

_"You can't leave," he said, hands frantic. "Don't leave me. Call that guy, cancel your meeting, I don't want you to go." Armie tried to pull his hands back so he could look at Timmy, but his frenzied panic made it impossible and Armie gave up, opted instead to hold him closer to his chest._

_"I have to meet with your lawyer, Timmy," he said. The day before, Timmy asked if he'd go to the meeting and settle whatever he could, reschedule for the rest of it. He'd agreed, of course he agreed, but Timmy's anxiety made him wonder if it was worth it at all. "It's a short meeting, I'll be back before lunch."_

_"That's what they said!" Timmy cried, his hands grasping Armie's hair. "It's snowing, I won't let you leave." Armie had to fight tears as he realized what was happening, the real reason Timmy was freaking out, the conditions of the road much the same as the day his family crashed._

_"Okay, okay," he said, soothing him, his eyes drifting towards the window. "I won't go," he promised, threading his fingers into Timmy's hair like he always liked._

_"Everyone I love is dead but you," Timmy sobbed. "Don't go."_

_"I won't," Armie repeated, tears slipping past his defenses. "I'll stay here, I promise."_

 

"Can I ask you something?" Armie smiles and cover's Timmy's hand on his chest with his own.

"Sure," he says, tracing Timmy's fingers.

"Do you think we'd still be together? If I hadn't broken up with you?" Armie's heart sinks in the moments that pass.

"Are you asking me if we would have made it through this year?" he asks quietly. Timmy nods against his chest. "I don't know," Armie whispers. "I want to tell you yes."

"But you don't know if we were strong enough," Timmy offers, sniffling.

"We weren't. You were right to end this."

"Maybe," Timmy sighs, shifting so he lays on his back, his side still pressed against Armie. "I never said thank you for last year," Timmy's voice is soft and hesitant. "For what you did for me. Staying with me when no one else would even after I ended this."

"Other people would have," Armie mumbles, looking over at his profile.

"Not like that. No one else would have done that for me." Armie knows what he means, all the nights he let him cry himself to sleep in Armie's embrace, the days when he sat in Armie's lap and stared at a wall while Armie tried to read to him or watch a movie to distract him, the days he forced Timmy to eat, to drink water, to shower. The days he pushed his hair back and kissed his cheeks and sat there while Timmy curled around him, entire days of silence because talking was too hard.

"I wasn't about to let you go through that alone," Armie tells him, eyes still on his features.

"I didn't deserve that after what I did to you."

"You mean breaking up with me?" Armie clarifies. " _Timmy_. You didn't deserve what happened to you. You have to know by now, I'm always going to love you and if something happens, I'm going to be there, day or night." Timmy reaches over and grabs Armie's hand to pull him in, their bodies awkward for only a moment before Timmy shifts and Armie's at his back, the two spooning, Armie holding him close.

"I never should have let you go," Timmy whispers.

"You still have me," Armie whispers back, eyes closed.

 

_Timmy pushed Armie down on the couch and curled against his chest, his eyes puffy but body too emotionally drained to cry any more. "Luca will be here tomorrow," Armie said softly, pulling a blanket around them and wrapping an arm around Timmy to stop him from falling off the too-small couch._

_"Shut up," Timmy mumbled, hiding his face against Armie's chest._

_"I was just--"  Armie started, interrupted suddenly.Timmy whimpered and lifted himself to lay on top of Armie's body completely, his lips weakly connecting with Armie's for the slightest kiss. "Okay, I'll stop talking about it," Armie swallowed, his heart clenching at Timmy's desperation to not face the funeral plans. He'd been restless all day, body literally crying out if Armie left him alone for longer than a few minutes at a time, knowing he only walked away to make phone calls linked to it. When Armie tried to mention it, Timmy pushed against his chest until he stopped. He wasn't sure how Timmy would handle it, all the people, their words. Timmy barely spoke at all, a few words here and there scattered through the day, only to Armie. If it continued, he knew Timmy would be in a constant fit for the entire day as people would show up in the morning and stay until the evening tomorrow._

 

Armie wakes up with a jolt, his breathing labored as he sits up, Timmy rolling over. He glances down at him and has to take a moment to collect his memory from the night before. Timmy groans and shifts, one of his legs moving as he gets more comfortable laying on his stomach. Armie grabs his phone by the bed, the battery nearly dead, and sees it's almost four. He almost laughs at his body remembering Timmy this way, waking up in case he needed a midnight panic. "Go to sleep," he hears, muffled against the pillows.

"Sorry," he whispers, looking down at Timmy's body, "Didn't mean to wake you."

"You always do," Timmy grumbles. " _Sleep_." Armie's brows furrow at this and he sinks down lower into the bed, pulls the blanket up around his torso. Timmy turns his head so he faces Armie and scoots until he's back in his arms with a quiet hum. Armie, too awake to sleep now, finds it difficult to do anything but watch Timmy, the way he breathes, how soft his hair is, how it's longer now, how he shoves his hand upwards on Armie's chest until he's draped over half his body, his hand slipping into Armie's hair gently with a sigh.

He looks innocent like this, like he'd never seen a trauma a day in his life. Armie traces lines along his arms, down his back. He can almost pretend none of this happened, that they're back on the press tour, Armie sneaking away to Timmy's room to nap with him, or in New York with Armie pinned under Timmy's gaze and desire, or even in this very room, the times Armie snuck down here to be with him, to press him against the walls for the briefest moments, his lips against skin. He can almost pretend it's not a week until Christmas, roughly two weeks until the anniversary, can almost smell the summer air on Timmy's skin before he walked up to Armie and said _This isn't working._

Timmy's body shivers when Armie loses focus, his fingers trailing along a more ticklish path. _"Sorry_ ," he mumbles, turning his head to press his lips against Timmy's wrist at his shoulder.

"Stop thinking," Timmy says, eyes still closed, breathing slow.

"I'll try," Armie whispers. "Go back to sleep." Timmy groans and tries to move Armie so he's on his side facing away from him.

"Can't, you're distracting," Timmy complains, voice dripping with sleep. He presses his face against Armie's shoulder blades and loops an arm around his waist with a deep sigh. "Stop fidgeting."

Armie lets him hold him with a small smile, his whole body pressed against Timmy's. It actually staves off his stress, soothes his racing mind.

When he wakes up again, Timmy's gone already, his side of the bed still warm. Armie swings his legs off the bed and wanders over to Timmy's suitcase, following a hunch, finding a few of his hoodies and shirts stashed under Timmy's jeans and socks. He smiles fondly and grabs one, an old blue shirt Timmy had taken years ago. He slips it on and wanders out of the room, finding Timmy in the kitchen with Harper and Ford already, helping them make pancakes. Armie watches him, smiles when he looks up and meets his eyes. Armie remembers Timmy telling him his father would make them pancakes on Saturdays he didn't have to work, a tradition of their family Timmy didn't know to appreciate before it was gone. It hollows Armie out to see him craving them, yet fills him with something he can't explain to watch Timmy do this with his own children. He feels his eyes water the longer Timmy holds his gaze, and where he might have pushed it down before, he allows it to take over now, wants Timmy to know he understands what this means, this simple action of making pancakes for his children. Timmy smiles softly when a tear slips past Armie's eyes, and looks down.

Armie wipes it away quickly and composes himself to walk into his kids' line of site. Harper jumps up and runs over to him to drag him deeper into the kitchen to help. "Pancakes, huh?" he asks Timmy quietly when he stands near.

"Do you mind?" Timmy asks, looking at him.

"No," he shakes his head.

"Dad usually makes pancakes," Harper says, climbing up to sit on the counter. "Timmy does it different, Dad."

"You make them pancakes?" Timmy asks, still looking at Armie.

"On Saturdays," Armie says softly, trying to smile without letting on how emotional he is suddenly.

"Saturdays," Timmy nods, biting his lip. He clears his throat and smiles at Harper. "That's a good tradition."

"Yeah, but yours are better. Dad, you could learn a thing or two."

"I'm sure I can," Armie laughs, leaning against the counter as he watches them interact, Timmy's movements turning more fond, more purposeful, as he teaches Harper how to flip pancakes.

When Elizabeth comes down, she kisses each of the kids before ruffling Timmy's hair, finishing with a kiss on Armie's lips that he tries to dodge at the last minute. "So… what do you guys say we go look at some Christmas lights today?" she says, but not before glaring at Armie for his reaction to her kiss. The kids are more than thrilled, but she turns to Timmy and rubs his back. "Timmy? Want to join us? It's a tradition in our family," she smiles brightly.

"Sure," he nods, staring at the pancakes. "That sounds nice."

"Okay, it's settled! We'll go this evening."

 

_Timmy was screaming, that was all that processed when Armie woke up in a panic, his eyes refusing to focus in the dark as he looked around frantically. He felt nauseous, his arms flinging to his sides until he connected with Timmy's body about a foot away to his left. "Tim! Wake up! Timmy!" he shouted, lifting himself up to begin shaking him. "Come on, wake up," he said, one hand gripping his arm to pull him up with the other pushed back his hair from his sweaty forehead. Timmy's eyes fluttered open mid-scream, the sound shifting towards a sob when he saw Armie. "Hey, look at me, we're in bed, I need you to breathe, okay?" he tried to ground him, his hands framing Timmy's face to keep his eyes focused on Armie as he woke up slowly, his body shaking with stress and emotion. He blinked rapidly before squeezing his eyes shut. A hand lifted to Armie's chest wordlessly before dropping with a thud as his breathing increased, then settled slightly as he tried to calm himself down. "Do you want me to hold you?" Armie asked quietly, pushing Timmy's hair back. He nodded a few times, still not opening his eyes, and Armie moved so Timmy could settle against his chest. He rocked him until he stopped crying and tilted his head upwards to look at Armie. "Better?" Armie asked quietly, feeling unbearably exposed under his gaze, as though Timmy could see through his bravado._

_"No," Timmy whispered. "Sort of." Armie understood. The real nightmare was one he couldn't wake up from. "I don't want you to go back after the funeral. I don't want to do this without you," Timmy confessed. It had been more than he'd said the entire day before. Armie felt his resolve crumbling as he looked into Timmy's eyes. Usually he had time to pull himself together in the mornings before he had to be stable for Timmy, but he lacked all prep now. His eyes filled in time with Timmy's as they stared at one another._

_"Okay, I'll call Elizabeth," Armie nodded. At his words, Timmy's eyes slipped shut and he relaxed against Armie's chest. Armie had originally planned on staying with him until the funeral, at which point Saoirse would arrive and take over "Timmy duty" as she called it. Luca would stay a few extra days, too, and Timmy's friends had agreed to spend more time around the apartment once Armie was gone. He was weak, though, and Timmy's request for him to stay longer wasn't something he had the ability to turn down. Armie wasn't sure how much longer he could hold him together without falling apart himself, but he knew he'd stay until he hit his breaking point, until Timmy didn't need him anymore. "Get some sleep," he whispered against Timmy's forehead. "I'll hold you."_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also look i know this is a terrible spot to end it but it's either ending it here or making you wait EVEN LONGER for an update so im sorry


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!! Okay, so... The original plan is sort of... this wasn't supposed to happen, I'll say that. I can't control my muse, but I'm not mad at it either. This chapter and the next REALLY start setting things in motion, giving you guys some answers, and creating more questions I'm sure. 
> 
> See you on the other side.

"Hey, wait up," Timmy calls from the bottom of the stairs. Armie hesitates at the top and turns to watch him walking up.

"You good?" he asks, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, I just—" Timmy bites his lip when he reaches him. "You make them pancakes on Saturdays and Elizabeth suddenly has a tradition of looking at Christmas lights?"

"I've been making them pancakes for a few years." Armie shifts on his feet. "I didn't have traditions with my dad and yours were so sweet," he shrugs. "At the time I…" Armie looks into Timmy's eyes before letting his gaze wander, listening for the sound of Elizabeth walking near. When he's satisfied she's still downstairs, he looks back. "I never anticipated to be the one to carry the tradition on with them forever. It was yours, I assumed you would do it," he says, pinching his leg to distract from the dull ache spreading in his chest.

Timmy's quiet for a moment his eyes drifting away from Armie. "And the Christmas lights?"

"I mentioned to her that you liked to go through the city sometimes with Pauline and look at them. I guess she wants you to experience that again," Armie sighs.

"I love you, Armie... and I love your kids. But you know you guys can't replace them, right?" he asks, voice timid and tight.

"I know," Armie nods. He watches Timmy stare at the floor, watches his face shift and transform until the emotion plays out enough that he seems in control again. "I'm not trying to replace them, Tim," Armie whispers.

"I know _you're_ not," Timmy shakes his head. His hair had grown more this year and Armie loses himself for a moment in memories from years before, back when he let it grow this long for the hell of it, just curious to see what it would be like. Back when this was still new, when they felt invisible, when Armie wouldn't hesitate to grab fistfuls of his hair and twirl it between his fingers.

He remembers falling asleep one night years ago with Timmy's head on his chest right after he'd gotten a haircut. His fingers ran through it, almost feeling phantom curls when the strands ended. Timmy complained twice as much when Armie's own hair disappeared, though he had no problems running his hands over and over the shaved areas of Armie's head. They'd laid together one night with conspiratory smiles as Timmy read some article out loud to Armie about "breakup hair" and asked him if he was trying to tell him something, Armie's _whose bed am I in right now_ making Timmy grin.

Elizabeth was somewhere downstairs, likely calling favors and friends to arrange get-togethers so the house would be full of life while Timmy visited. Meanwhile, Armie is staring at Timmy, his heart stuck on the day Timmy told him he wanted to make memories with him they'd never forget. He swallows and looks away.

"It it's too much, just tell her. She doesn't know what to do in this situation. She never saw you a year ago… she's trying to make up for it," Armie says with a deep breath.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” Timmy says. The sound of Ford running around downstairs distracts them momentarily, his feet hitting the tiles without care. “I can’t hit pause, you know? I need to move on,” he tells Armie quietly.

“Are you ready to do that?” Armie asks. His fingers rub against each other anxiously.

“I honestly don’t know,” Timmy admits, looking at him closely. “I think so. I want to be ready. This fucking sucks, man. I don’t want to be angry anymore.” Armie watches him look away, his mouth twist up, his brows furrow. Harper calls out from downstairs looking for them, Armie glancing down to see her nearing the stairs. Timmy clears his throat and ducks his head to the side to shield himself from view as Armie tells her they’ll be down in a second.

“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. We can stay back and just hang out,” Armie says, searching Timmy’s features for signs that he might want this.

“No, no it’s okay. Maybe it’ll be good for me, or cathartic rather.”

 

 

_Armie couldn't sleep. It was almost 3am and he held Timmy in his arms, his eyes stuck on the ceiling. Every now and then, Timmy's body would twitch and Armie would rub his back to sooth him. It felt more important than sleep, though he knew if Timmy were more himself he'd object. He was peaceful when he slept, some of the hard lines of his despair fading into nothing. Armie wanted nothing more than to hold him like this forever, keep him safe from the reality he was facing each moment he was awake._

_His surviving family and friends would arrive throughout the day in the morning. They would gather him in their arms and tell him how sorry they were for his loss. Armie ran his fingertips over the bridge of Timmy's forehead and nose, across his cheekbones, the smooth skin too young to accept the responsibility of saving face. He let himself cry, knowing when Timmy awoke he would have to swallow his emotions to keep them both afloat. It was what he'd decided his role would be, after all. Suffocate all the pain to take on as much of Timmy's as humanly possible. Timmy stirs and scrunches his nose at the feel of Armie's fingers tracing his face before he relaxed, a smile hinted on his lips, Armie's eyes filling and spilling over at the sight. He couldn't remember the last time he saw him smile, even faintly, even this much. He watched until it disappeared, his heart aching for it to return. Timmy mumbled in his sleep, something undecipherable, and pulled himself closer to Armie with a shiver._

_He didn't care how much it killed him, how difficult it would be to say goodbye. He only cared that Timmy felt better in these moments in his arms. Nothing mattered more._

 

 

“You invited Nick?” Armie asks, his hands pressed against the flat of the kitchen counter. “Why?”

“He just wants to check in! You know he cares about Timmy,” Elizabeth says.

“Jesus Christ, Elizabeth. Can we not make this such a big deal?”

“I think you’re overreacting,” she says with a tight smile. Armie clenches his jaw and looks away from her. He knows she’s not _wrong_ , but it stings to be called out. He doesn’t want anyone getting close to Timmy if he’s honest. He wants to protect him from lingering eyes and _how are you holding up_ questions. If it were up to him, they’d be in Paris tonight to distract Timmy from everything and everyone, but it’s not up to him, and he isn’t sure that’s what Timmy would even want.

“I just don’t want him to think we’re trying too hard,” he says, thumbs tapping against the counter.

“You mean, you don’t want him to think _I’m_ trying too hard.” Armie can’t meet her eyes. “Armie,” she sighs. “Look. I’m trying here, but you have _got_ to cut me some slack. I think I’m being pretty generous all things considered.”

Armie huffs and shakes his head, a bitter feeling settling in his stomach. “I know,” he grits out.

“If you think he’ll have a problem with Nick coming, then you tell him yourself. I’m not taking the invitation back,” she says. “Forgive me for trying, but one of us ought to.”

“You think I’m not _trying_?” Armie looks up with wide eyes.

“No, I know you’re doing what it is you always do. But do you really think he needs you hovering over him and sleeping in his bed—”

“So that’s what this is about.”

“— when he’s trying to _move on_ , your words not mine?” He stares at her, jaw tight. “I’m not an idiot.” Her voice is solid and sure, almost rehearsed.

“I didn’t say you were,” he says.

“No, but you must think I am.”

“Mom, when are we going to see the lights?” Harper comes bounding into the room and over to Elizabeth, saving Armie from responding.

“Soon, Hopsy. Once it gets a little darker,” she smiles down, adjusts Harper’s ribboned hair. Armie smiles at her as she grabs a snack, guilt seeping into his thoughts. Timmy comes into the kitchen shortly after with Ford to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and glances between Elizabeth and Armie with a curious look. Armie meets his eyes and shakes his head, a warning not to ask.

Eventually, he wanders away to the living room and thumbs through social media to distract himself from Elizabeth’s comments.

 

 

_Timmy’s curled up on his chest, fingers snaking up to tuck neatly into his hair. Armie has been trying to coax him into taking a shower for half an hour to no avail. “I’ll take it with you,” he whispered as his hands ghosted over Timmy’s body. Anything to get him up and moving before people began showing up. “I’ll wash your hair,” he added, remembering how much Timmy enjoyed it. He felt a pinch of guilt in his stomach for falling back on their old patterns; he knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But it had been working and at times it was the only thing Armie could use to help Timmy feel any sort of normalcy, and who was he to take away any form of comfort from the person he loved?_

_“Okay,” Timmy whispered. Armie’s eyes slipped shut at the small victory. It didn’t feel small, getting Timmy to agree to get up. Every day was a fight, and he couldn’t exactly blame him for not having the energy to be active._

_Armie pulled him up and out of the bed, taking his hand to keep some form of contact as they walked to the bathroom. He’d learned by then that Timmy needed touch, some tangible reminder that he was there, alive, solid. When they walked into the bathroom, Armie turned the water on and shut the door. After, he turned to help Timmy out of his clothes, his breath caught when he found him already dressing down without help. He seemed determined even to do it himself, the first time he’d seemed to have any motivation to do_ anything _since Armie arrived. Armie swallowed and smiled softly at him to help him feel relaxed. This was safe for them, familiar, comfortable. The fact that Armie hadn’t had him like this in months a blaring truth he had no choice but to push into the back of his mind._

_Timmy stepped out of his sweatpants and reached out for Armie, his hands gripping the material of his shirt. Armie, afraid to startle him, allowed Timmy to undress him. His hands gripped fabric and pulled, his face blank as they fell to the floor into a pile on top of his own clothes. Armie swallowed when his hands grabbed the waistband of his pants, his boxers, and tugged. Timmy’s eyes didn’t leave his as Armie stepped out of the material._

 

 

Nick shows up moments before it’s time to leave to see Christmas lights. Armie is helping the kids get their coats and shoes on, Timmy lingering in the doorway and offering to help every 30 seconds. “Hey man,” Nick says, stepping into the living room. ARmie looks up and watches Timmy turn, a smile breaking out on his face.

“Nick!” he says, walking over to give him a hug. “How are you, dude?”

“I’m good. It’s good to see you, it’s been awhile,” Nick says. Armie looks between them for a moment as they settle into catching up, Timmy’s eyes bright as he reconnects. He’s nothing like the last time Armie saw him, back when he channeled his pain into fights. He didn’t see his eyes light up a single time.

When they pile into the car, Timmy’s sitting next to Nick and Armie tries not to be jealous. He has no right to be, after all. He knows Timmy has never been interested in Nick, has always seen him more like his best friends back in New York. He catches Timmy’s eyes in the mirror and sighs when Timmy bites his lip and looks away. Armie can’t even bring himself to be that bothered because he _knows_ if Nick is good at anything, it’s being a distraction. He talks to Timmy about random stuff that shouldn’t be entertaining but somehow is coming from him. Armie knows it was a good idea to invite him, but still feels uncomfortable. He wishes he’d thought of it.

They go somewhere you can walk through a park full of lights, and Armie tries to tell Elizabeth with his eyes that he doesn’t want to hold her hand through the walk. They were tense with each other lately, but especially since Timmy finalized his plans to come visit. Instead, she holds Harper’s hand and Armie keeps pace with Timmy and Nick, Ford switching between all of them with whose hand he holds. “This is so different from the city,” Timmy comments after a few minutes.

“More suburban?” Nick asks with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Timmy laughs. He looks at Armie and smiles softly. “But it’s nice,” he nods.

“Good,” Armie says quietly, leaning to nudge Timmy with his shoulder.  

Time passes swiftly as they walk through the park. At some point, Armie goes to Elizabeth and nods at her, says, “Thank you,” quietly. It’s all he’s willing to give up, this small acknowledgment that she had been right about coming tonight.

“I told you so,” she smirks, looking over at Timmy. “I know you want to be the only one who helps him, but you can’t be.” Armie can’t look at her, can’t even look at Timmy. He _did_ want to be the one who was there for Timmy, he couldn’t help it. A part of him would always be in love with Timmy, would always want to be the one holding onto him when things went wrong. He had been the one Timmy wanted when it all fell apart, and he wanted to be the one who helped him put everything back together.

He stares at the lights and shifts his gaze to Ford and Harper running around near Nick and Timmy who begin corralling the kids towards Elizabeth and Armie.

Armie smiles at them when they near, and Nick tells Elizabeth he thinks the kids are getting a little restless. They decide to start walking back, and somehow in their shuffle Armie and Timmy begin walking side by side a few feet behind the others. “It was Elizabeth’s idea to invite him,” Armie admits quietly.

“I figured,” he nods. “I’m glad she did, it’s nice to see him again. Last time was… you know,” Timmy bites his lip.

“Yeah, I know.” Nick had gone to the funeral, had seen Armie at his worst. He’d been the one who convinced Armie he needed to leave, who'd bough the plane tickets and helped him make it back to LA when Timmy couldn't bring himself to kick him out despite everything. Armie tries to push the memory away to think about later. He’s successfully suppressed it this long, surely he could forget about the funeral for another couple of hours until he was alone with his thoughts.

“This was really nice, Armie,” Timmy says. “I know it wasn’t your idea, but I wanted to say thank you. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to do this but I’m glad we did.”

“Good,” Armie nods, his heart aching. He feels as though there’s a wall between them, something standing tall ever since this morning. Everything felt exposed last night, no topic off limits as Timmy let himself be vulnerable, seek comfort in Armie’s embrace once again. Now that Armie’s got a taste of that connection again, he craves it. “Hey, Tim?”

“Hmm?”

Armie looks at him and stops walking, the lights hitting Timmy’s face in such a way that takes his breath away. He loses his train of thought as Timmy stares back. Something seems to pass between them, some sort of acknowledgement of a connection they can’t explain. Armie swallows and forces his brain to focus his thoughts, but all he can think about is how much he missed Timmy being around, in his life, even casually around his family like this.

“Stay with me tonight,” Timmy whispers. “Whatever it is, tell me then.”

“Okay,” Armie nods.

 

_Armie turned Timmy around under the rush of the water, his hands safely on his shoulders. Timmy’s body relaxed under the hot water and Armie could hear him sigh, his head falling forward. Armie’s hands moved slowly, slipping quickly into muscle memory as he traced the lines of Timmy’s shoulder blades, down his spine and back up. He reached for the body wash and tried to keep his mind and body in check as he poured some on a washcloth and ran it over his back and arms. He tried to ignore Timmy’s hum and the way he lifted a hand to rest on the shower tiles in front of him. He turned slowly when he sensed Armie needed him to, his eyes meeting Armie’s steadily._

_For a moment, Armie couldn’t breathe. His hands were at his sides, the washcloth he’d been using dripping soap down his leg. Timmy blinked away the water droplets falling on his face, his lip getting caught between his teeth. He reached out to help Armie lift his hand to rest it over his chest, the washcloth soft against his skin. Armie swallowed and let the cloth skate over TImmy’s chest, down each arm as Timmy lifted them, his eyes still trained on Armie as he worked. Armie didn’t dare wash his legs, wouldn’t near anything below the belly button. He knew himself well enough to know that was treacherous territory._

_He reached for the shampoo and Timmy shifted, leaned forward so his head rested against Armie’s shoulder. It was too much for Armie, too tender, too trusting. He felt himself growing emotional; he’d never thought he’d be allowed to be this close to him ever again. Timmy had been so sure of himself when he’d broken up with Armie, and yet he was caving just as much as Armie as he lifted his hands to rest on Armie’s abdomen to hold him steady._

_Armie began rubbing the shampoo into Timmy’s hair, guiding him under the water to wash it out, his heart wild in his chest. He’d always loved Timmy’s hair, loved how responsive he’d get when it was played with. He couldn’t help himself; seeing TImmy so relaxed for the first time since before the accident, he felt almost like nothing had every happened, like no time had passed and they were still together. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Timmy’s shoulder, his hands slipping down Timmy’s body to rest at his waist._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new update will be soon!!! I've already been writing more, and I have a loottttt of the flashback scenes written. The story finally feels like it's progressing to me which makes it way easier to write.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been a really long time. This fic is tricky to balance and I had too many ideas for this chapter. It's not even all of what I had intended writing for this chapter, but if I extend it to include the next scene then it'll just keep spiraling lol so here you go!
> 
> I needed this chapter to be cohesive because it's the first one where you really start to get answers. It's a lot, folks. Strap in.

_ Timmy's hands skimmed along Armie's torso until they were at his neck, his eyes closed. "Please," he whispered. Armie leaned his head against Timmy's, his entire body aching to lean in, to be closer to Timmy. He'd missed him so much it hurt. He knew it wasn't smart, that Timmy was emotional and vulnerable, but so was he. With all the effort he'd been putting into holding them both together, he didn't have the energy left to stop himself from pressing his lips against Timmy's, to give in to the one form of comfort they could only get from each other. _

_ Time slowed as Timmy kissed him back. Armie's hands lifted to Timmy's face, his hair, his neck, his heart racing as Timmy sighed and dropped his hands to push Armie's chest so he was against the wall, Timmy's body chasing his. "Tim," Armie breathed, his lips a hair away. He knew it wasn't fair to either of them to be doing this, to let themselves slip back into each other without any promise of a future together. _

_ "I don't care, please, I want this, I miss you, please," Timmy said, his hands lifting to Armie's face, his fingers light but insistent against his checks, lips, jaw. "Please," he whispered, kissing him again. _

_ Armie could be strong for everyone, but Timmy would always be his weakness. He felt tears sting at his eyes at how badly he wanted it to mean more than he feared Timmy wanted, but nodded anyway, kissed Timmy back, stopping him only when he feared they could never go back from what they were doing, not only physically, but emotionally to one another. _

 

Once home, Armie puts the kids to bed while Nick talks to Timmy downstairs, Elizabeth answering a few work emails, popping in to kiss the kids goodnight. When Armie walks back downstairs, Nick’s practically out the door. He waves, but Nick motions for him to come over. He walks him out and looks at Nick expectedly, eyebrows raised. “Timmy’s doing well,” Nick says. 

“Yeah, I think so.”

“He’s still in love with you, you know that right?” Armie sighs heavily and looks down, head shaking. “Look, I know what happened this year makes you doubt everything, but that guy is still head over heels for you.”

“Nick, it’s complicated,” Armie says. 

“Oh, believe me. I know it is. You’ve fucked up this year. But you’ve also been there for him, and the fact that he still talks about you like he’s going to spend the rest of his life with you after everything that happened… Armie, come on,” he says. 

“You don’t think he’s still mad at me?” Armie asks quietly, looking up. 

“No, I don’t think he’s capable of holding a grudge against you,” Nick says. “Besides, the shit that happened only happened because you’re both too stubborn to just be together. If you’d get over yourselves, you wouldn’t have fought.”

“And the funeral?” Armie asks. 

“The funeral wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t so hellbent on being the strong one, which for the record he never  _ asked _ you to be, Armie.”

“But—”

“Ask him, I guarantee he’ll tell you the same thing.” Nick sighs and places a hand on his shoulder. “Look, man. You’re my best friend, so I have to tell you this. The two of you are trying so hard to stop whatever this is between you. Did you ever think it might be easier to just be  _ together _ ?” 

“I don’t know if he even wants that anymore,” Armie admits, running his hands through his hair. 

“Ask him,” Nick says, a sort of pity smile on his lips. “You guys need to talk about it or you’re never going to be happy with the way things are.” 

 

_ Timmy moped after the shower, refused to speak to Armie. "Why don't you want me anymore?" he'd asked, his voice rough when Armie pulled his hands away from his body in the shower. Armie had to tell him of course he did, could he not tell he wanted nothing more, but Armie didn't want to be something Timmy regretted, something he does just because he's hurting. "Let me decide what I will and won't regret," he'd told Armie before getting out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, and disappearing into his room. _

_ They got dressed in silence and it didn't fade the entire ride to the cemetery. Armie feared he wouldn't say a word to anyone the entire day, but was shocked to find him smile softly as people began arriving, moving with strength Armie hadn't seen since he'd arrived. He allowed guests to hug him, tell him they were so sorry for his loss. He watched as Timmy held himself together with more ease than Armie ever did, his face revealing very little of the struggle he'd been going through for days in silence. In fact, Armie hadn't heard him talk this much since he'd arrived. _

_ When Luca arrived, he held Timmy in his arms longer than most others. Armie could see him whispering to Timmy the entire time, knew by the way Timmy's arms tightened that it must have been comforting. _

_ Armie was struggling; his role for days had been to keep everything afloat, to help Timmy cope. Suddenly, he wasn't sure what he needed to be, how to act, what he should be saying or doing. Timmy was, by way of appearances, completely fine all things considered. _

_ When Nick arrived, Timmy had been preoccupied. He went to Armie first, a hand on his shoulder before he pulled him into a hug. "How's he doing?" he asked. Armie just shook his head, his eyes tearing up. He didn't know anymore. Had he been the cause? Was he making this worse? _

_ Luca pulled him aside when he was able to. Armie collapsed into his arms, seeking any form of comfort he could. Timmy was making the rounds but avoided him entirely. _

_ He couldn’t help but feel guilty, feel useless, feel the weight of the entire week begin to crash down on his too-exhausted shoulders. _

 

Armie walks back inside and finds Elizabeth talking to Timmy about Christmas shopping the following day, asking if he wanted to go. He smiles when he sees Armie, but it disappears almost as fast as it appears. Elizabeth notices Armie lurking and sighs, asks Timmy if he needs anything before bed. He shakes his head and thanks her, Armie watching from a careful distance. 

“You,” she says, pointing to Armie. “Come here real quick.” 

He follows her into the next room where she messes with his hair a little, some form of distraction, before sighing heavily. “You’re staying with him, aren’t you?”

“We just need to talk,” Armie tells her. 

“That’s it, huh?” Armie stares at her and feels everything bubble up to the surface when she doesn’t back down, all the hurt, all the anxiety, the longing. 

“I’m trying to be what he needs, okay?” 

“You’ve tried that already,” she says, voice patient. “As I recall, you ended up kissing him.”

“Do you have a point?” he asks, swallowing the memory, both of Timmy and the fight with Elizabeth that it resulted in. A fight he was ill prepared to have days after returning from New York when it was too fresh. 

“My point is you’re married. And I know that hasn’t stopped you before, but—”

“Can we not fight?” he asks, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

“Can you keep it in your pants?” He stares at her, his jaw clicking tightly. “ _ Can you? _ ”

“Yes,” he grits out, eyes darting away from her. 

“Then I’ll see you in the morning.” She walks away without another word, off towards their bedroom. 

He knows it isn’t fair to be angry at her for asking. He knows it isn’t fair to want Timmy. He knows this. 

He’s learned his lesson, he understands the consequences of wanting more than he’s allowed. He knows what it does to them, how it destroys them to want when they can’t have. 

Still, he looks back towards the kitchen with a heavy heart, Nick’s words from earlier urging him to fess up and be more honest with Timmy than he’s been in nearly a year. 

  
  


_ "Shouldn't you slow down?" Nick asks softly, his hands covering Armie's wrist to lower his glass back to the table. "Armie, please do not get drunk." _

_ "I'm  _ fine _ ," Armie grumbled, lifting the glass back to his lips. _

_ "What the fuck happened, Armie? He looks okay, considering. You said he was barely able to move." _

_ "He wasn't," Armie shakes his head. "He hasn't been like this at all." _

_ "That's weird," Nick mumbled, looking back at Timmy. _

_ "I guess I was just making things worse," Armie said, staring into his near empty glass. _

_ "Hmm? Oh come on. Don't make this about you," Nick rolled his eyes. _

_ "I shouldn't have come," Armie gulped the last of his liquor back. "He doesn't want me here. I'm making everything worse." _

_ "What are you  _ talking _ about?" _

_ "He kissed me today," Armie said, looking at Nick. "Wanted me to fuck him—" _

_ "Okay, I don't really—" _

_ "He's been moping all week, he barely talks, he barely fucking moves, Nick. And then today he talks to me more than he does most days and it's to get a reaction out of me, and now he's fucking fine. What am I supposed to think, Nick? He didn't need me, he was worse when he was with me," Armie shook his head, tears filling his eyes. "He doesn't need me. I make everything worse." _

_ "Stop it, this is the alcohol talking," Nick said. _

_ "They didn't deserve to die," Armie cries. "They didn't fucking deserve it." _

_ "I know," Nick nods. _

_ "And he just, he's just had me to get him through this and I'm clearly not what he needs." _

_ "Armie," Nick sighed. _

_ "He's the love of my life, Nick, and I can't even help him get through this." Armie stared at Nick, tears flowing freely. "I tried so fucking hard to be there for him—" _

_ "And you were, Armie." _

_ "No, no I don't think I was. Tell me, how is he able to do this now? He hasn't talked to me since this morning, he looks fine, Nick! When he's with me he doesn't look  _ fine _ , he looks like he's going to cave in on himself." _

_ "Maybe he just feels more comfortable embracing it with you." _

_ "Or maybe I make it worse. Maybe he hates himself when he's with me." _

_ "You sound insane," Nick said patiently. _

_ "I can't be here. I can't do this anymore. He hates himself with me, that's it, Nick. That's why he left me, he hates who he is with me." _

_ "I think you're emotional and you need a minute to calm down. Armie, breathe, okay?" _

_ "He hates me, Nick. He hates me. He fucking broke up with me and now I won't leave him alone. And then, then I didn't sleep with him today and he looked so angry and I don't know how to be what he needs." Armie's voice shattered under the weight of a trapped sob, his body curling in on itself. _

_ "Okay, I need you to look at this objectively because I think your argument here doesn't make sense." _

_ "You didn't see him. He doesn't want me here. I shouldn't be here." _

_ "If he didn't want you here he'd tell you, Armie." _

_ "God, Nick! His family is dead," Armie sobbed, head in his hands. "His family is gone, I can't do anything about it. He's in so much pain, Nick. And I can't stop it." _

  
  
  


Armie smiles at Timmy as he walks over to lean against the counter nearby. “I was thinking…” Armie quirks an eyebrow and pausing a few feet in front of him. “Could we watch a movie like we used to?”

“Yeah, you really want to?” Armie remembers watching movies with Timmy, remembers the cuddling and teasing. He knows better than to expect that, but his heart still lingers on the thought.

“Yeah, I think we need some normal,” he says. “If that’s alright?”

“Absolutely. Go choose something, I’ll make some popcorn.”

Timmy’s grabbed a blanket and has some indie film Armie’s never heard of queued up when he walks into the living room with a bowl of popcorn and a large glass of water. He puts both on the coffee table in front of the couch and sits down, freezes when Timmy shifts and tosses half the blanket over his lap.

He recovers quickly and smiles at Timmy, tells him he can start it, and tries not to think about the inches between their bodies.

Something had happened while they looked at Christmas lights, Armie’s certain of it. Something passed between them, something they wouldn’t be able to deny if they touched. Nick’s words are ringing in his ears when Timmy reaches for the water and takes a sip before offering it to Armie, a question in his eyes that Armie isn’t sure either is ready to really ask.  _ Is this okay, can we do this again, should we even be alone? _ Armie doesn’t know any of the answers.

Timmy’s foot moves to brush against Armie’s at some point, the touch jolting. “Sorry,” he mumbles, Armie’s reaction making him retreat.

“No, it’s—” Armie clenches his jaw and tries to let it go, but can’t stop thinking about it. He remembers a year ago, how clingy Timmy had been, how he wanted to be touched at all times. Aside from last night, Armie’s barely given in to that pull, and he starts wondering as Timmy chews on his lip he’s doing more harm than good creating boundaries again.

He moves his leg to press it against Timmy’s and stares at the TV with a strained breath when he feels Timmy’s eyes on him. This felt dangerous. It felt like falling into a trap, like any second Armie wouldn’t be able to hold back from saying everything he held in, and god knows he didn’t have a great track record with his timing this year. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to center himself and remember that this is not the same situation, that he has control over his reactions and fears.

_ Armie had yelled at someone, he didn't know who. He was crying into his arms when someone tried to ease him out of his seat, get him to talk. He'd lashed out, told them to fuck off, didn't even bother looking up. His eyes were closed, his body refusing sleep though he understood by then that he desperately needed it to stop his raging mind. Everything was on edge, his nerves, his emotions, his thoughts. He was losing control, and nothing he did to try to stop was helping. _

_ Luca approached and rubbed his back eventually, tried soothing him after he'd shouted at the bartender to give him another drink. If he drank enough he would sleep, he told himself. It hadn't worked so far. _

_ "Tell me what's wrong?" Luca had asked. Simple, kind. _

_ Armie turned on him, glared. "What's wrong? Are you a fucking idiot?" And Luca attempted to calm him down, to stop him from shouting. The alcohol and sleep deprivation, coupled with the emotional stress he'd been pushing down for a week, were too powerful. He refused when Luca attempted to hug him, yelled to stop himself from sobbing, dug his fingernails into his hands to keep himself steady until they began to draw tiny specs of blood. _

_ "You need to calm yourself down, Armie," Luca said, a foot away, hands raised in the air between them. "You're having a reaction to this situation. I need you to focus on your breathing and things you can control." _

_ And Armie tried, he tried to breathe, but every time he looked around the room and saw Timmy talking to someone, he was reminded that he hadn't been able to help. If anything, had done damage to his healing process by being there. He spiraled and spiraled like a leaf falling to the ground until all there was left to do was look back up at what he'd lost. _

About halfway through the movie, Timmy moves to face Armie, his hand running along Armie’s side. The touch is innocent but it’s almost too much and Armie has to push his hand away gently. He smiles to soften the blow, afraid to push Timmy too far away from him.

"She's weary, isn't she?" Armie’s face scrunches up at the question. “Elizabeth. That’s why, right? You don’t want me to touch you?”

"I don’t… what do you mean? You're going to have to be more specific," Armie chuckled after a minute just to relieve the tension he suddenly feels, his hands pulling through his hair.

"I just mean… Certainly it’s been tense for the two of you and… Me. Being here, being… around you. Alone. She worries about it, doesn’t she?" Timmy chews on his lip, his hands fidgeting after he speaks.

"She always worried about us, you know that."

"Yeah but now she knows she should be, I guess. That’s why you don’t want to touch me, right?"

Armie leans forward with a heavy sigh and grabs their water, sips it slowly before placing it down. His hands stretch out on his thighs, his eyes glued to the ring on his finger. His voice is quiet when he speaks. "Should she be worried?" He glances over his shoulder at Timmy. "Still?"

Timmy blinks back at him and shifts, his arms lifting to cover his chest. "I guess I don't know."

Armie sighs. His eyes wander, afraid to look at Timmy. Nick's words are there in his mind and he can't shake them. "I think we should talk about it," Armie whispers. "What happened. I think if we want to move on, we have to talk about it,  _ I  _ have to talk about it." Timmy stares at him for a long moment before nodding and straightening his spine. "I just really need some closure, Tim."

_ "What the fuck are you doing?" Armie looked up from his empty glass, to see Timmy walking towards him. He'd worn himself out, felt the weight of his outbursts, regretted them so much that all he could do was sit and wait to leave, afraid to go without permission from Timmy. Afraid he wouldn't allow him to leave, afraid he would tell him to. "What are you doing?" _

_ "Drinking." _

_ "Luca just told me you yelled at him!" _

_ "It was an accident." _

_ "You can't fucking yell at him! What, did it finally set in? That my fucking family is dead? Is that it? Now you want to have a pity party?" Armie stared at the bar, his eyes watering. "Look at me!" He understood that he was wrong, that he deserved this. Perhaps Timmy was finally ready to be angry about everything. Perhaps he needed someone to scream at, just as Armie had needed it. Armie shifted in his seat, mentally laughing at the turn of events. He could be this for him, he could finally help him if this was what he needed. _

_ "He doesn't deserve you being angry! He's trying to help me!" _

_ "And I'm not, right?" Armie bit back the bitterness in his stomach. His worst fears confirmed, then. He wasn't helping at all, merely making matters worse for Timmy. The one thing Timmy wanted from him earlier, the one thing he showed any sign of needing, and he couldn't give it to him because he knew the cost it would have on his own heart, a cost he wasn't sure he would ever recover from. Selfish, really, not to give in. To not help. _

_ "So this is about you, now? Okay. Sure, make it about you." Armie heard Nick in his ear saying the same thing. That last glass of whiskey was wearing on his exhausted mind, his broken heart. He wanted Timmy to yell, he realized. He wanted him to make it easier to let go, to stop loving him. He wanted to stop loving him, to stop hurting, to stop hurting  _ him _. Nothing felt right anymore. _

_ "I don't want to make this worse for you," Armie mumbled, tilting his empty glass around. _

_ "Worse? My family is  _ dead _ , Armie. You think you can make this  _ worse _?" _

_ "I'm obviously not helping." _

_ "You fucking coward. You're giving up because of this morning, aren't you? Did I offend you that much?" _

_ "It wouldn't be right, Tim!" Armie blared, turning on him, the weight of everything crashing down at once. _

_ "You get to decide that, huh?" _

_ "You decided this was over, I'm just going with that." _

_ "Oh, okay. OKAY. You can sleep in my bed and take care of me but the second I want anything else--" _

_ "It's not fair to me--" _

_ "This isn't fair to ME! My family is DEAD, Armie!" They'd drawn a crowd, curious eyes and worried glances falling on them from all sides of the room. And Armie collapsed in on himself because he knew, he  _ knew  _ Timmy was right. Still, Armie knew he also wasn't wrong, and he clung to that knowledge to justify not giving Timmy the comfort he wanted in that way. Timmy was hurt, and he knew that they were falling into dangerous territory every day, that crossing that line would break both of them all over again when Timmy started to feel better and no longer wanted him around. _

_ "So that's it? Are you done?" Armie looked away from him, his body geared up for a fight he didn't want. Better to stay silent, he thought. "You never fight, do you? You never fight for ANYTHING. You just sit there and take it and let life happen. Look at me!" _

_ "I'm sorry I can't be what you need," Armie muttered, eyes stuck on the floor. _

_ "God, you! You really think this is all about you!" Armie's eyes closed, guilt seeping over him. Was he really being that selfish, was Timmy right? Armie can’t think properly—between the alcohol and the pain, he just feels confused and alone. _

_ Nick and Saoirse tried to clear people out of the area, give them space. Saoirse rubbed Timmy's back and kissed his cheek, told him to breathe. Armie stared and watched as he calmed down, as he nodded at her when she spoke. He watched Timmy recover and force the anger back inside of himself. He watched her do what he couldn't. Make things better. _

  
  


"So… that day--"

"We're talking about the funeral?"

"Yes, the funeral," Armie nods.

"Okay, go ahead. You first… Actually, can I go first?"

"Well… First, I need to say sorry. Can I say that and then you can go?" Timmy fidgets and looks down but nods.

"When I heard about your family, I shut down. The entire flight, I kept thinking I was too late, I had this fever dream where it had been you and... The only thing that mattered to me was helping you cope, making sure you didn't… I  _ needed  _ you to be okay."

Timmy leans against his shoulder with a sigh, Armie's eyes slipping shut at the contact before he continues. "You wouldn't talk, no one knew how to help you, they just kind of assumed I would, and let me... I don't know how much you remember about that week, but it was rough, Timmy. I was so terrified that I'd wake up and you would just… be gone. I can't tell you how scared I was for you. I was so fucking scared that I would lose you, not just,  _ physically _ , but your mind, Timmy. You weren't yourself and it was so terrifying."

"I'm sorry," Timmy mumbles.

"No, don't be. You were grieving, I was just worried. I wasn’t really sleeping and half the time I was too focused on getting you to take care of yourself that I forgot to do the same… And when people showed up and you were  _ fine _ , I just… I hit a breaking point. I was overwhelmed, I shouldn't have been drinking, I should have just… walked away for awhile to clear my head. I shouldn’t have lashed out. I'm so sorry." Timmy breathes at his side for a few moments before tilting his head up to look at him. “I’m so sorry, Timmy. I was just—I was so in love with you, you know? I was so fucking scared. And I shouldn’t have caused a scene but…I’m just sorry. I’m really sorry.”

 

_ "Tim," Armie mumbled, hand on the doorframe to the room Timmy was tucked away in as guests left. He sniffled when he turned, his eyes softening when he saw Armie. His arms fell to his sides with a heavy sigh, his lip quivering. Armie was helpless as he walked over to him, draped his arms around his neck, began sobbing. Armie had held back for so long that the tears began falling from his eyes without him even realizing it. The two held onto each other, sobbing, afraid to speak. _

_ It was only when Timmy's lips pressed against Armie's neck that the spell broke, that Armie pulled himself away and covered his face in his hands as another sob broke through his body before he was able to contain himself. "I can't. Timmy, please. I can't do that." He watched as Timmy shattered, lowered himself to the floor and gripped his legs to his chest. "Please, tell me how I can help you," Armie cried, lowering to meet him. Timmy just shook his head, his eyes closed tight. "Talk to me!" Armie gripped his arms, desperate. _

_ But Timmy said nothing, simple shook his head and cried some more, refused to look into Armie's eyes. _

_ Eventually, Nick found them and pulled Armie up by his shirt, pushing him out the door as he called for Saoirse to help Timmy. _

_ "This isn't healthy," he'd said. _

_ "He won't talk to me," Armie had said, voice drained, eyes threatening to close with exhaustion. He gripped Nick's shirt and listened as he spoke, his words covering him whole as they walked towards the door. _

_      "I think it's time you stepped back." _

_      "I don't think this is helping either of you anymore." _

_     "Let someone else help him, and go help yourself." _

_     "You're destroying each other." _

_ Nick's words echoed in his mind all night, even on the plane as they sat side by side, even when Armie walked into his house, when his children hugged him, when Elizabeth tried to talk to him, all the way to his bed where he collapsed without speaking a word. _

**Author's Note:**

> So this does have a part two, but i have so many things i still have to cover that it may end up being three parts, I really dont know. I'm so in over my head. The reason it ends kind of awkwardly is because the next thing is a flashback and I didn't want to end a chapter on a flashback.......  
> I would say this has a happy ending but as bella keeps telling me THERE IS NO HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE HIS FAMILY IS DEAD. I'm sorry. Listen, none of you can be as upset as I am about this fic, okay, but feel free to yell at me in the comments. If you made it to the end of this you're probably hurting. Same.


End file.
